Street Sh*t (feat. Sheek Louch)

Where my hood at?

Where them red and blue flags, where that good at?

Somebody tell them hood rats to come up front

And let the club know I'ma smoke my blunt

Money green, weed green, hood black, heart black

Never let them see where you live, where you park at

Never let 'em know how you get it, just wash that

Never let the beef ride long, go squash that

You can shoot it out or go and peace it up

If we was in jail I would make you give your sneakers up

'Cause I'm a loyalist and I spray shit

The .44 make **** look like crayfish

'Cause you seafood, so go on, sleep with 'em

I don't trust no ****, I don't eat with 'em

Matter of fact, I'ma keep it street with 'em

I don't like his style, I don't even speak with 'em

I keep it G from the get go

Real go-getter and I let my shit blow

You don't wanna get your shit broke

I got the hawk, you don't wanna get your shit broke

Shit, where my hood at?

Where them red and blue flags, where that good at?

Where them vanillas, where that sticky?

Where my right hand man with the blicky?

Somebody tell them hood rats to come up front

And let the club know I'ma smoke my blunt

Bitch, this ain't Gucci, this ain't Prada

This street shit I'm fucking with them **** say nada

Hey yo, it's never gon' be another

Shocked the world with the half face gorilla cover

Clip on top of each other, now everybody wanna listen to the Sheek

Funny I'm on the plane watching Get Him to the Greek

Twenty thousand when I land just to listen when I speak

Bully, he in my will somewhere, he like to eat

I get high, high like P's song

That's why my shades on, used to be in love with Nia Long

Donny ain't around now I'll talk 'bout Viet Cong

That means more bitches, more haters on my song

But I don't go back and forth, me no ping-pong

Donny at your door like Avon, ding-dong

Yeah, me and my E hawk

Pop them things off on your block, then later we pop klikko

Hah, amazing ain't it?

If you could paint a bigger picture, well, go ahead and paint it

Shit, where my hood at?

Where them red and blue flags, where that good at?

Where them vanillas, where that sticky?

Where my right hand man with the blicky?

Somebody tell them hood rats to come up front

And let the club know I'ma smoke my blunt

Bitch, this ain't Gucci, this ain't Prada

This street shit I'm fucking with them **** say nada, shit

Bang like them white boys in mosh pits

Hach-too spit on your favorite rapper, he's not shit

My catalogue is colossus

Blunt for the prelude, one for the process

Perform with a swarm of fully loaded objects

Make it clearer than Podus ring

I'm reaching for my phone 'cause I hear it before it ring

I'm reaching for my gun 'cause I hear it before it ring

In the hood, I'm a muse

Phantom that's verbal, demolition in the booth

Slicker than the oil that you get at the masseuse

Chrome thing with the cone head in the goose

Adding in the coupe, subtracting what I shoot

Get in with a axe and some matches and a noose

You have no idea on the havoc I produce

Till it's way too late, the brain matter's on your shoes

Shit, where my hood at?

Where them red and blue flags, where that good at?

Where them vanillas, where that sticky?

Where my right hand man with the blicky?

Somebody tell them hood rats to come up front

And let the club know I'ma smoke my blunt

Bitch, this ain't Gucci, this ain't Prada

This street shit I'm fucking with them **** say nada, shit